«Not this sleeper,» said the woman. «This one will never harm anyone.» Her voice quavered as if some of Sart's terror had passed to her. It was the first time Blade had seen weakness in her. He stepped forward to have a look at the thing.

It had been a Morphi sleeper. It had worn a white plastic coverall. This was torn and ripped and within it was all that remained of the sleeper. Something had fed on it. The face was gone, one of the arms, and the viscera had been hollowed out. One look was enough for Blade. He went back to Sybelline.

«You said the mole rats did not come this high. Yet that sleeper is eaten away. What is the truth of it? Are there likely to be others around?»

She had regained some of her composure and courage. She met his gaze without flinching. «I spoke truth as I knew it, but the power has been off for so long. They have become bold. And it may be a time of famine for them. How can I know? In ordinary times they never venture this high.»

Sart whimpered again. «Let us go, master. I would rather face Jantor without a bar or go to the pits than be eaten by mole rats.»

«Be quiet. Sybelline, lead on»

They began to walk again. As they went, Blade bade her describe what he could not see-simply to describe, not to place events in a framework of time. He could not fathom the Morphi or Gnomen concept of time and did not try. They could not explain and he could not understand. To try would be a waste of the very time that baffled him. For all he knew Sybelline was a thousand years old, HD time, or only ten. The Gnomen spoke of years, but what did they mean?

He listened intently, trying to relate Sybelline's words to his own concepts.

They had walked a mile across the plastic turf before he began to grasp it. The dome over them was a mile high. The power complex was some five miles square. When the power was on, all was brightly lit by air lights. The air was circulated and freshened automatically, and neither the Gnomen nor Morphi were affected by heat.

The ultimate source of power, Sybelline explained, when it was crushed and milled to talcum powder smoothness, was common rock mined below the five level. After processing it was called ditramonium. A single large boulder, after treatment, furnished power for eleven Morphi days. Blade despaired at calculating that.

By now excitement was burning in him. This was it. Power from ordinary rocks. If he could wrest that secret from this Dimension X, take it back with him, hand it over to the HD scientists, then the Project was a success beyond even Lord L's wildest dreams. And perhaps that it would be the end of the experiments. Never again would he have to go through the computer.

Computers. It came to him like a lightning flash in his brain that Sybelline was at this very moment talking about computers. Thousands of them. Giant machines banked around the dome, silent now, but ready to hum into action when the power was restored-power that was somehow-and this was beyond his comprehension, sent through the air itself with no wires or cables. He struggled to bring the concept clear in his mind, to grasp what Sybelline was telling him. The power was in the air, everywhere. Every Morphi, from the moment of birth, picked up the power, was connected to it by means of the power stud in his neck. The technique was simple enough once you accepted the a priori fact of the power itself. It was nothing more than an old-fashioned trolley car taking its power from an electrically charged wire, except that there were no wires.

«How much farther?» Blade asked.

Sybelline waved her torch ahead. «Just there. A hundred paces or so.»

Sart touched Blade's arm. «Something is following us. I think mole rats.»

Blade and Sybelline spun around and held their torches high. Sart got behind them and made terrified sounds. Sybelline said, «He is right. See them-over there.»

Blade saw them. More than a score of eyes winked red-yellow out of the gloom.

«They are blind,» said Sybelline. «They have eyes that are open and shine, but they cannot see. I saw a dead mole rat once and heard a Morphi expert explain it. I do not wish to see another one.»

The eyes crept closer. Blade hefted his bar. «Like it or not,» he told her, «you are going to see one, if they will take the bait.»

She peered at him. «Bait?»

«Me.»

As he strode back toward the glowing eyes, torch in one hand-held high-his spear bar ready in the other, a theory leaked into his brain. A hunch, call it, but he knew he was right. He was drenched with sweat. His smell was strange and enticing to these creatures. That was why they were bold, why they followed. The mole rats were after him.

The glittering eyes fled. If they could not see, their hearing and smell more than compensated.

One pair of eyes did not run. They moved toward Blade, baleful and terror-gleaming, all the more frightening because they were dead eyes and still sparked hate and hunger at the big man. Blade caught a whiff of charnel odor and heard the creature sounds-a gobbling sound that screamed along his spine. The thing leaped.

For once Blade's courage nearly failed. He was a mass of terrified sweat. He longed to flee, but dared not. He lunged with the sharp end of his spear bar and met the creature head on.

The mole rat reared, and slapped at the bar with huge spade paws. Blade nearly lost the bar. He dropped the torch between himself and the mole rat and the thing charged over the flame. It did not fear fire. Blade used two hands and thrust with all his strength. Fangs grated on the bar and the smell of the rat overwhelmed Blade. He fell back a step.

The rat charged again. Blade knelt and took the charge with his bar, much as he had killed the Gnomen, and the mole rat impaled itself. It did not die quickly or easily. It thrashed around on the bar, spurting gouts of black, foul-smelling blood, and Blade had an urge to vomit. He let go of the bar and stepped away, watching the death throes of the mole rat, keeping an eye out for new danger. He picked up the torch.

When the mole rat was dead he went close. The thing was as big as a wolfhound, with a long scaly tail and the body and snout of an enormous rat. The spade paws were those of a mole, the talons gleaming four inches long. The thing had a double set of shark-like teeth. Blade pulled out the bar and kicked the animal. It gave a last convulsive death shudder.

He wanted to drag it back with him but could not bring himself to touch it. It was loathsome and probably poisonous. The truth was that his nerves were screaming and he was still afraid of the thing, dead or not.

Sybelline called to him. «Leave it, Blade. The others will feed on it. That is how they live, by feeding on their old and dead.»

Blade was glad of the excuse to walk away. He went back to join Sart and the woman. Sart stared at the blood on Blade's spear bar and made the sign of the fylfot on his bald head. When his eyes met Blade's they were filled with awe and admiration.

«I have never seen the like of that, master. Even Jantor would not walk into a nest of mole rats.»

Sybelline nodded. «It is true. Even the Morphi fear them, though they killed many with poison and trapped some for examination.»

«Let us get on,» said Blade.

«Just over there,» she said.

They approached what seemed to Blade to be a block house or bunker, not large, made of sturdy plastic blocks. Sybelline confirmed his guess that it was squarely in the center of the dome complex.

He examined the entrance with his torch. From the darkness behind them came gobbling sounds as the dead mole rat was devoured.

Blade looked at Sybelline and nodded at the entrance. «There will be sleepers in there?»

«Yes. Technicians on duty. It was dangerous duty and they were triple paid.»

Blade smiled. «How do you know all this?» He had guessed, but he wanted to hear her say it.